


2 A.M.

by Silverdart



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Crack Relationships, Cunnilingus, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mates, Mech Preg, Morning Sickness, Out of Character, Post-war (I guess), Prompt Fill, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, valve eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 02:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5074255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverdart/pseuds/Silverdart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus is woken in the wee hours of the morning to the sounds of his mate purging his tanks. When he finds his mate on the floor of their washracks, he does the best he can to help comfort his sparklings' carrier. Including helping him out with his charge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was '2 am' from the prompt list http://64damn-prompts.livejournal.com/profile.

Waves crashed heavily against the sharp rocks encircling the shallow bay, a light sea breeze brushing against his sensors. Gulls squawked as they fought over fish and scraps of mussel along the beach’s edge. Optimus adjusted his hold on the slack frame draped languidly against his chest, smiling faintly at the purr it earned him.

He glanced up at the sound of the soft patter of little pedes streaking by, leaving their imprints in the partly wet sand. The sparklings shrieked with laughter and giggled, draping each other in ceremonial strips of seaweed and discarded feathers. The slimmer of the two twittered curiously, spotting a bright red crab trying to scuttle by unnoticed. He and his brother knelt to the sand and watched the shellfish’s little legs closely.

Optimus lowered his helm to nuzzle carefully against sharp audial fins, running his servos smoothly along the long planes of his mate’s arms. His mate let out a soft ex-vent, pulling up his legs and turning his upper body to press his side against the Prime’s warm torso. He gazed upward, violet optics sparkling with mischief before he leaned closer and rubbed his bared cheek against his partner’s. Optimus rumbled, tightening his hold on the slim frame. The Prime couldn’t remember the last time he had been so at peace.

He jolted suddenly awake, a sound akin of a backed up washing machine tearing through his recharge cycle. He groaned quietly, turning over in his berth to try and hide from the horrid noise. The arm that wasn’t pinned underneath his bulk searched fruitlessly for his berth-mate, pawing questioningly at the still warm crease in the sheets. His half shut down processors blanked and he furrowed his optic ridges. The retching continued, getting louder and more strut rattling.

Optimus rose with a groan, rubbing a servo over the curve of his helm before checking his chronometer. The numbers on his HUD blinked a dull 2 a.m., the middle of the night cycle.

The Prime turned to swing his legs over the berth edge, spying a crack of light filtering into the blackness of the room from his private washracks. He quietly stood, gears tenderly churning in protest, and made his way over to the cracked open door. He raised a servo and lightly knocked, the heaving quieting slightly before dying down into heavy pants.

He was about to knock again, calling gently “Soundwave…”, but was beaten to it as a long lithe tentacle curled slowly around the rim of the door and opened it for him.

His optics shuttered quickly for a few moments, adjusting to the light of the washroom and taking in the dark blue-purple plating of the ex-communications officer leaning sullenly over a waste receptacle. Optimus clicked lowly, moving to kneel carefully beside his mate and rub a heavy hand up and down his quivering backplates.

The jet murmured, weakly raising an arm to point at the sink with a pleading look in his optics. Small fangs poked from between his stained lips as he tried to wipe away some of the half processed energon his tanks had purged. Optimus took the hint and leaned up to large but soft human beach towel, soaking it in cold water from their creaky faucet. He rung out most of the water, then ran it across Soundwave’s forehelm and the back of his slender neck.

Soundwave chirred, moving into the touch. The two sat on the tiles floor for another half our, Optimus helping the spy work through a few more sessions of dry heaving as he began to quiet down.

“There now, shh. Are you alright? Is it passing?” Optimus asked.

The spy nodded, his multi-toned voice sliding roughly past his strained intake tubing. “It… it’s passing now.” He whispered. “Unsettled tanks; result of sparkling’s pushing against Soundwave’s gestational chamber. Soundwave; will be alright in a moment.”

Optimus hummed comfortingly, running the makeshift cloth over Soundwave’s cooling plating. He too care in cleaning off the drips of energon from his mate’s chin, smoothing over creases of irritation as Soundwave grumbled in protest. He chuckled tenderly, conceding to Soundwave’s batting servos.

“Soundwave; not a youngling. Knows how to clean up after himself.” He stated, light amusement trickling into his voice. Optimus barked a short laugh. “Alright, alright.” He soothed.

The Prime stood, helping his exhausted partner get to his pedes and catching him when he stumbled. Soundwave’s tentacles wrapped around Optimus’ shoulders and waist for support, leaning heavily on his frame. They walked slowly over to the dishevelled berth, Optimus slapping a servo on the light switch as they left. The smell of purged energon was faint, he decided cleaning it up could wait until morning.

Instead he gently eased Soundwave’s frame onto his back on the berth, careful to stop his spines from piercing the plush pillows. Soundwave purred, limbs melting comfortably. He raised a servo to rub at an optic, growling when he felt the heat in the pit of his tanks linger.

One minute he’d be purging his tanks, the next crackling with charge. It wasn’t the first time he’d carried, but it seems that his two full sized twins were taking more out of him than Rumble and Frenzy ever did.

Optimus sat on the berth surface running his hands in a massage over Soundwave’s abdominal plates, unkinking cramped wires. He flinched slightly as sparks of charge danced between his fingers, and grinned when Soundwave began to grumble.

“You’re fine, love. It’s completely normal for a carrier of your size to feel a little more… heated than usual.”

Soundwave whined, servos clenching tightly in the sheets as he tried to contain his squirming. “Soundwave repeats; n-not hormonal youngling. Control; can be main-prr- maintained.” He stuttered, vocalizer purring against his will as Optimus’ attentions moved steadily southward.

“You are uncomfortable, I can feel your tanks fluttering Soundwave. What kind of sire would I be if I neglected the carrier of my sparklings? Especially in a situation where I am more than willing to lend a servo… or two. Or a glossa if you prefer, it really is up to you.” He teased. He didn’t need to act the steadfast leader with Soundwave, he could open up in ways he hadn’t since he’d lost Megatronus to his anger.

Soundwave’s faceplates flushed a dark blue, energon rushing to the surface in his embarrassment. Nonetheless, he didn’t try to hide how his legs angled up to give the Prime a little more room. Optimus’ optics darkened, and he watched the shivers travel up Soundwave’s sides when he shuffled backwards and leaned forward to run his lips chastely along Soundwave’s stomach plating.

Soundwave whimpered, helm bending backwards and optics shuttering with a sigh. Optimus blew warm air along the tracks his glossa marked on his frame, taking time to trace the tip along thin seams his fingers had no change of wiggling into. Soundwave moaned, thighs trembling as they were coaxed to fall open on either side of Optimus’ helm. He bit his lips, tentacles coiling.

He gasped as Optimus ran his glossa flat against the front of his cod-piece, wetting it slightly with oral coolant. The teasing licks and nibbles on the edges of his panel were too much to resist, and Soundwave nearly sobbed in relief as it clicked open invitingly. His spike pressurized quickly to drape against his thigh, valve gaping and shivering in the cool air of their quarters.

Optimus hummed and pet the insides of Soundwave’s knees. “Hrmm, would you like me to continue, sweetspark? We can stop any time you’d like, tell me if I go too deep. There’s no need to push, tonight is all about _you_.”

Soundwave growled and warbled an affirmative, untangling a servo long enough to press insistently on the back of the blue helm. The message was clear, ‘get to work’.

Optimus breathed an airy laugh, giving in to his mate’s prompting. He ran his thumbs lightly down the folds of Soundwave’s valve, watching huskily when small dribbles of lubricant trickled eagerly from its depths. He indulged in his mate’s startled gasps when he chased after the liquid, lapping it up as quickly as it came. When he was thoroughly satisfied with the cleanliness of the valve’s outer petals, his glossa delved deeper, tracing the nodes in the first ring of calipers.

The spy squealed shrilly when a large warm servo encompassed his thin spike, teasing its head and smearing the bed of transfluid from its heat along the glowing lines of the shaft. It picked up a thorough slow pump, while the servo’s twin spread the right side of the valve’s folds to allow that sinuous glossa to worm its way in deeper.

Optimus withdrew every few moments to pull light sucks on the glowing nub at the top of the valve. He pressed down, rolling it between his denta. Soundwave’s vocalizer cut out with a grunt, his spike twitching. He mewled, mouth hanging open to let out fevered pants. The heat was building to unbearable limits, the harsh tingle of charge crackling through his circuits.

Soundwave’s tentacles shot out, wrapping their way around Optimus’ forearms to squeeze tightly in warning. Optimus hummed in acknowledgment, doubling his efforts by twisting his glossa across slickened walls clenching down like a vice on the appendage. Soundwave felt the spread of a grin across Optimus’ lips, and was struck by nervous but impatient anticipation.

Optimus spread his lips, latching them firmly on the outer folds of the valve and shoving his glossa all the way back to the third ring of nodes inside. The blazing sensation was coupled by a firm squeeze and twist of the straining spike, finally pushing Soundwave over the edge. The jet came with an audial tearing screech, spike spurting transfluid in a weak arc to spatter against his torso and Optimus’ servo. It was nothing compared to the sudden surge of lubricant from the valve, pouring out in near rivers with the Prime lapping it up as fast as he could.

Soundwave’s optics had shorted out just before climax, his audios ringing with static. The room was quiet save for his deep intakes of air, and the slight shifting of berth sheets as Optimus smoothed his tensed legs down against the plush surface. Soundwave’s optics finally cooperated and they onlined dimly. He felt the little remainder of his energy be released in a quiver and he gritted his denta. Optimus had been licking his fingers clean of transfluid, chin caked with lubricant like he had been sucking on a rust stick. Soundwave moaned weakly at the sight, unable to get heated after the overload he’d had. Optimus smiled when he caught him watching, and crawled his way up to flop beside Soundwave’s satisfied frame.

Soundwave purred, curling up against Optimus’ warm chassis and tugging gently on a broad red arm. The arm draped across his frame, drawing him close. A bundle of sheets were drawn up to cover their sticky frames, which Optimus took a moment to messily clean up with a cloth from his subspace. Contented by a job well done, Optimus sighed happily, resting his jaw against the top of the jet’s helm tucked into his neck cables.

“I take it you’re feeling better now?” He murmured, smirking at the feeble swat it earned his windshield.

“Rest now, beloved. There is still plenty of time until the on-cycle, and I for one was having a very pleasant dream. Perhaps there is time for another, what do you think?”

Soundwave made a noise of sleepy agreement, and Optimus was lulled back into a deep recharge, vibrations of Soundwave’s purring soothing his spark chamber and the spread of a smile on his mate’s lips.


End file.
